A World Without You
by agoraphobia
Summary: If they never met… if certain events had never occurred… the people they were to become would not be. The series of anguish in their lives would simply continue on until it collided with a different source of happiness… Love. senshixshitennou AU-ish
1. cracked open

I do not own anything. Sadly.

Based off manga.

xxxxx

You were always so forgetful.

Whenever you wanted to go somewhere, you'd forget where it was you were going.

Even when you'd stopped numerous times, afraid of losing your way, we nudged you on.

.

You were always so unorganized.

There were so many things that would never see the light of day again because they met you.

Even when you mourned those losses, such silly items, we mourned with you.

.

You were always so klutzy.

There could be nothing but a painted line in your way and you always managed to trip over it.

Even when it seemed impossible to stand back up, we never did give in.

.

You were always so caring.

There is no one in this world so undeserving of your love than us.

Even when we were mad at you or scared you, god we're so sorry, you were always there.

.

What would we ever do without you?

How would things be between us all?

.

Without you…

The people we are now would not exist.

.

.

A World Without You, Usagi Tsukino, is insignificant.

* * *

"All rise for the honorable judge Urazaki."

Many forms shifted to stand, bones creaked and feet shuffled uncomfortably, but no one said a word. Such an itchy, awkward silence, so suffocating it had men loosening their collars just to inhale the lip drying proximity. Soon the slamming of a gavel ushered the minimal audience to take a seat and the stale atmosphere morphed into a tingling cloud of anticipation.

The rousing of papers, tapping of feet, coughing; it was all maddening.

"Yes, yes. Here we are," the judge, Urazaki, muttered as he ran a hand through his thinning hair. Clearing his throat he continued, "Would the defendant please rise for her sentencing."

Letting out a shaky sigh the abnormally tall brunette obeyed his wishes from behind the defendant's table. Holding her chin high and expression fierce she awaited her fate.

"After reviewing your case I have come to a conclusion. Without any substantial evidence of actual participation in a gang related crime I'm going to minimize your punishment. The assault charges have been dropped, but due to the fact that the plaintiff, Mr. Isamu, was able to place you at the scene of the crime on the class two misdemeanor charges and the lack of your recollection of your whereabouts I am forced to sentence you to sever 200 hours of community service with an additional $250 fine. Addressing the community service issue means you'll have to check in with a probation officer at the end of every week with a signed slip from your employer dictating the amount of hours you have served at said designated place, is that clear?"

She nodded solemnly.

"Once the hours have been served, I wish to see you back at this time in one month to hear about all the wonderful morals you have learned. We shall discuses any further punishment following; if you fail to show we will be forced to initiate a warrant for your arrest." He rubbed a couple fingers against a temple, trying to fight an oncoming headache. "Oh, and Ms. Kino, I suggest you shape up. I'd hate to see you back in my courtroom beforehand or thereafter, do you understand?"

Again, all Makoto Kino could do was nod.

"Court is adjourned."

And with the final word from the judge's gavel everyone filtered from the courtroom; only a small select feeling any sense of relief.

* * *

Rain pattered away at the window, claiming the silence of the cramped, stuffy apartment for itself. Occasionally, the distance shouts or footsteps of a passerby would stir an irritated sigh from the only occupant of the space, followed by a page in a book being turned. Lips pursed into a determined line, royal blue eyes focused, concentrated, but it was only so long before the entrancing curtain of liquid called for their attention. Fingertips tapped against a flushed cheek, annoyed.

There wasn't much that could keep her from her literature nor was it an easy task to aggravate someone so composed and practiced.

Mother Nature had a different plan it seemed.

Ah, how she hated the rain. Hated how no matter how long she stood in the rain, it wouldn't accomplish a bit of anything but catch her cold. Hated how amazingly relieving the cool drops could be, but couldn't cure a single of her problems. Not the simplest calculus equation or even tell her the atomic number for Hydrargyrum. Not a _single _problem. And was she ever the problematic person.

Turning downcast eyes back to her book, Ami Mizuno settled into the dim light of her solitary desk lamp once more.

* * *

Many people ran for the covering the over hanging awnings, some used coats and news papers as temporary umbrellas, but none roaming the streets of Tokyo could escape the bitter cold wind. While people huddled into taxis and doorways one young woman in particular chose to embrace the weather while perched upon a curb. With her arms spread wide she turned her face to the gloomy sky only to find herself face to face with a single glamorous advertisement pasted among the tall, grimy office buildings. True, Tokyo had them plastered at every eye catching moment possible, but something about this one stirred an unsettling feeling deep within her gut.

Painted lashes created a drowsy sense about the billboard as they hung low over chocolate eyes, beckoning a person to stare just a bit longer. Parted red lips seem to whisper sweet nothings into the hazy atmosphere, promising nothing yet everything at the same time. Pale skin, so flawless and glowing compared to the dingy metal backdrop; it was so impossibly stunning it hurt her eyes to look at.

Such a horrible, taunting sight…

The sound of a blasting horn broke her back to reality, startled her, and forced her to clear her vision of lashing blonde locks. When had that happened? Clutching tightly at the long tresses, she fought back the tears threatening to slip onto her frozen cheeks. That could have been her face up there… Could be completely comfortable in some pricey flat of her own… She could be the one sprawled across some posh carpet in front of a lit fireplace right now… Could have made something of herself… No cares in the world…

Now look at her: waiting for the six o'clock bus, wearing outlet and thrift store clothing, clutching a paper bag nabbed from a grocery store. Normally she would have found nothing wrong with such materialistic things, but now all she could reflect upon them was as one vast step back from where she could, _should_, be in life. So many aspirations so easily dashed all at once. So many friendships ruined. How nothing pleased anyone, nothing pleased _them_.

She took a step off the curb, towards the oncoming traffic, before taking two back.

How cowardly Minako Aino had become…

* * *

In another place, at a similar time, another beautiful young woman stood alone in the rain dressed in a silky white gown. Fortunately enough for this young lady, the graying sky was enough warning for her to grab her umbrella. However, with the passing of circumstances it now laid at her feet, collecting rain water in its upturned dome. Raindrops hugged her lashes, dripped off the ends of her ebony bangs.

Today was not supposed to be so miserable. Today was to run perfectly. Today was supposed to be one of the few days she stepped down those stairs feeling good about the way she looked, moved, and truly _felt_.

He had called her up late in the day; he was the only one who had ever called. It had not been scheduled like many of the other meetings they had held on that one particular day of the year, yet she had thought nothing of it… but nothing about today had been planned.

He told her to dress nice.

He told her it was a _very_ special occasion.

He told her his driver would come for her in one hour.

He never told he loved her when he hung up. Ever.

She understood though. She was an obligation handed to him by her father and he was never to make anything more of it. And yet, a long time ago he had broken that unspoken pledge and together they had stood in the rain and shared a kiss. She had waited for five years, growing bitter an angry, and then finally he had called her on her nineteenth birthday. He had told her that his marriage had blown through, that everything was falling apart. Told her he needed to talk, to see her once more.

And that's exactly what happened. He came crawling on his knees, spilt his heart to her while she watched in reserved silence, and then he left. They had spoken a few times throughout the last year, but nothing as intense. Words were softer, from both sides. She felt herself reverting back to the silly fourteen year old girl she had been. But, today had dashed any last delusion she had persevered within the light of love and hope.

When his driver had come to escort her to the car, he had looked her up and down, and asked why she was dressed in white.

'What is wrong with white?' It had been a chilly reply, but it got to the point.

'The bride will be wearing white.'

Turns out it was his turn to fall in love. He had kept it a secret, wanting to surprise her with his lovely blushing bride. He had wanted her to be happy for him, what else? He saw her as a younger sister. Someone he could chat innocently with and rely on to listen in return.

But… what about her? It was a selfish thought of course, but he was the foundation of selfishness.

She had been fourteen when he had first lied to her.

She was twenty now.

She had always loved him, even after she vowed to never again.

Now, in this nostalgic rain soaked instant, Rei Hino was able to lie to herself and finally believe it.

* * *

"How dreadfully boring."

"The weather man predicts it ain't gonna get much better anytime soon."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. But, I'unno, the weather has been real wonky lately," the voluptuous red head smacked her gum just the right way after ever word to where it visibly made her boss cringe. Not to mention it was almost painful watching her Monroe like 'beauty mark' twitch with every slow, drawled word. Why did he even try to carry out a conversation with this woman?

Dear Lord, _why_ was she still his assistant?

Because every woman you hire ends up either on your desk or in your bed by the end of her first day on the job, he reminded himself bitterly. Even when said rumors were most defiantly not true, or at least completely over exaggerated, he wasn't going to let it get the better of him. Besides, with Ms. Migurushii as his assistant he would not be tempted to give into the distasteful slander; and she didn't do her job half bad, but it seemed that she needed a little help herself… like with that giant main of tangled red mass she called hair.

"Oh, shoot. You know what I forgot to tell ya'? You were supposed to attend a wedding today," ruby red lips pursed into a pouty expression as she messed with a few buttons on her palm pilot, "but I guess it's too late now."

Maybe he had spoken too soon.

"Who was the invitation sent by?" The young man had to rub the bridge of his nose as he tried to tame an oncoming migraine. Carefully, he leaned back in his reclining office chair, feet propped up on his desk. Only twenty three and he could feel his hair falling out by the roots, metaphorically at least. He pulled at his prized golden locks. Not a single hair came loose.

Excellent.

"Uhm. Says here a… Mr. Kaidou Haruto? Some political bigwig, I bet. Probably got hundreds of guests goin'! Won't notice ya' missin'!" She flashed her boss a reassuring smile, the best she could muster he imagined, but the tapping of a black stiletto heel against the thick carpet gave her away. Such an unattractive habit, really.

"Ms. Migurushii, what is my name?" He asked, calmly setting his feet down so he could lean across the desk surface and gently tap an index finger against the top of the openly presented name tag.

"Err… Jayden Haru… to?" The woman's eyes widen in recognition. "YOU MISSED YOUR OWN BROTHER'S WEDDING!"

* * *

With a grumble he slammed the car door shut, dusting off the pesky raindrops clinging to the strand of his long hair. Today seemed like such a blur, person after person blabbing about nothing. Faceless, nameless chatter that came and went much like the assaulting gusts of wind. The stuffy, dreamy atmosphere was something he couldn't escape. It had only been five in the morning moments ago; his alarm clock hadn't even gone off. It never did. He was always punctual and perfect. Robotic.

It was starting to scare him.

Day after day was rudimentary, the same as the last day. He talked to the same people, about the same subjects, acting like it was completely planned. A flurry of vague conversations, a passing glance of fresh faces in the crowd on the street, of people he'd never see again was the only mutation to his day. God, a strike of lightening would excite his damned life, but even the rain had been expected. How unfortunate that the weather could so much as screw him over in the oddest way possible.

"Where is it you'd like to go, mister?" He lounged back into the hard leather cushion of the taxi cab, trying to seem as composed as anything as his and the cab drivers gaze met in the rearview mirror. "Well?"

"I'd like to go to…" He stopped himself from handing out the address of his forlorn one bedroom apartment to the man. He knew that if he went home now his life would go on as it had always: he'd turn the TV onto the same channel, watch the same program while picking at the usual Chinese food, before heading off to shower and sleep. His day would then seemingly rewind itself and play over tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.

"Come on guy, I don't have all day here," came the gruffly annoyed voice of the taxi driver as he pulled into the traffic, enticing heated honks from passing cars.

It was ten o'clock in the evening now, where could he go?

* * *

"The best coffee shop in Tokyo, please."

Well, his problem wasn't where he was going, but how exactly it was he was going to get there. And… how he got to where he was at that moment.

He should be somewhere… right… Opening the map he flipped it every which way he could possibly manage. He examined the different dots and cross roads, but his brow only creased in further bewilderment.

Tokyo was home to some of the brightest minds inhabiting the world, one of the main reasons he had journeyed so far, but how they traveled even a block in such a dreadfully confusing city was far beyond his knowledge; which was quiet extensive he had to add. Or, maybe it was constructed for only the most simple minded to interpret.

_Nah. _

Then again, it had only three hours among the towering skyscrapers he'd become so bedazzled he had lost his way to his hotel. He had to hand it to them; it was an ingenious advertisement plan. Trap the voyaging explorer in an odd world of glittering lights to the point where he's so dazed he _must _use the desired currency to find his way to said designated safety!

_Bah. _

He brushed it off as an easily made mistake any average country boy would come across, yet he still scolded himself for such paranoia.

Besides, it really didn't help him much when no one was willing to give him directions. It's not like he had made the customary tourist mistake of not caring to brush up on the language and culture, he had been studying Japanese for a great deal of time, it's just… in the excitement of the moment he had lost himself to the point where there was just no one to ask!

It was ludicrous how effortlessly it was for one to lose their composer in the heat of a childhood fantasy come true. It's not like he hadn't ever been anywhere before, he had traveled across many great countries, having the pleasure to have a sweet taste at most all kinds of extravagant cultures… But Japan? So many great things and people hailed from such a land! Karaoke, floppy disks, instant ramen!

It was just as spectacular as he imagined!

Yet… here was… ranting yet again.

Zacharie Ambrose ran a hand through his thick locks thinking about how much worse things could possibly get; how much more pathetic he could possibly look, sitting alone in the rain on children's swings, wholly lost, with just a plastic map of Tokyo and high hopes.

* * *

There was nothing like the feeling of wind rushing through your hair, trying with all its awesome might to deter you from your goal, or the rain splashing into your face, clouding your vision. No matter how fast your teeth chattered or how badly your lungs stung from the cold night air you didn't dare think of stopping; the adrenaline alone could keep you going for days. No, it was most defiantly an exuberating experience that was one must experience for him or herself. The excitement, the danger!

_What real danger can there be at riding your bike five miles per hour down a slight incline other than a bad road rash?_

Uh. A **really **bad road rash… ? He grimaced as the thought, as well as the image of him passed out on the side of the road kissing the asphalt, tumbled through his mind. Absurd realist thoughts! Always reigning down on his parade and killing all the fun in his everything. Then again, he could also curse such exciting weather for casting him off into lala land as he mindlessly peddled along the outskirts of city life. Someone could seriously get hurt.

Damnit! There is was again! Stupid voice! Stupid, stupid voice!

How could you curse such fortune weather? Tokyo had been nothing but scorching hot only a few weeks ago, wilting all his poor potted plants sitting out front. Rain brought life and vibrancy to another aspect of the city; no matter how artificial, corporate, and cold most of the foliage was scattered about! While there were plenty of people flouncing around, living a carefree and radiant lifestyle in their materialistic little minds, there defiantly was a lack of lush foliage to bring little natural color to the gleaming city.

Rain was a blessing!

The only real thing he could complain about was the fact that the stars were blanketed by a thick wool layer of impending gray which put a dent on his good mood. The only thing he enjoyed more than a good bike ride in the rain and brilliantly green plants was being able to gaze up at the stars. They soothed all his worries, but tonight it seemed the meager problems would have to fester for another time. That also meant he'd have to live with the little rational voice in the back of his head. Urg.

But, it wouldn't be long before the rain cooled further, eventually becoming snow, and in the end, that would finally give into spring.

And boy, Nethanial Garrard Holtz loved spring.

* * *

Sorry for any errors in either grammar or possible misunderstanding of anything law. ]:

Read and Review.


	2. finger on the trigger

Naoko Takeuchi owns Sailor Moon and all its wonderfully colorful characters.

* * *

"Oh. My. Gosh. Does anyone in this stupid city know how to eat neatly?" Minako grumbled under her breath as she wiped down the cracked Formica table top, grimacing as the dirty water mashed the pie crumbs into a soggy clump. No one had ever told her being a waitress was so… disgusting.

Fortunately for her the rain had chased away the local drunks and discouraged regulars, clearing out the shop earlier than usual; leaving her to meander around the quant little "bistro" with little to do. Only an older man stared stoically out the wide, dirtied window as he sipped at his coffee. A depressing air lingered about.

Her entire shift had been nothing but sitting around, doing her best to think optimistically.

But, it was so… **boring**!

It was no wonder she had gained three pounds in the last month. It defiantly wasn't the fact that the pie and cake and ice cream were all so magnificently comforting in the how-grandmother-used-to-make way.

Of course not.

Minako Aino stuck to her strict diet, denying the sweets with a… waning passion. Alright, alright maybe a few slices of pie had been able to conquer over carrots and celery sticks. But three pounds? **NEVER.**

"Maybe I should start walking to work…"

She hadn't realized that the bell to the door had chimed, that an umbrella had creaked closed, and a damp customer had slid into the grimy booth until she was flat on her back blinking up at the spackled ceiling. Apparently foot-like puddles of rain water and already slippery linoleum made for a painful combination.

"_**OW! **__I think I just broke my ass!_" Minako whined as she cradled her head, ignoring said broken area completely.

A cough.

Springing back to life, though almost slipping a second time, she whipped around. "Who's the bastard who didn't wipe his feet?"

Sitting in a near by booth, with a quicksilver brow lofted in amusement, a man trained his eyes stoically ahead at the laminated menu. The tracks of muddied footprints made him look awfully guilty, but even so Minako took a quick glance around. There was no way this heavenly, godly, GORGEOUS **HUNK** of man could possibly have been so inconsiderate.

Alas, there was no one else to persecute.

Instantly she regretted her earlier statement. It wasn't often Minako Aino regretted speaking her mind, but this was just a _little_ more embarrassing than most things. Such an outburst, such a hot guy… of course something like this would happen to her. Crappy day, crappy job, crappy day at job, crappy job at job, and now… the hottest guy in all of Japan, no, no… THE WORLD witnessing the 'I just broke my ass' comment.

Marvelous.

"Miss… are you going to stand there all day or do I really need to call an ambulance?" His voice was smooth, cold. Teasing.

Her brow twitched. Who was she kidding? She'd talked to _plenty _of steamy, dreamy guys over the years. He was nothing special so she wasn't going to flounder over him like he was!

Straightening, she sauntered (limped) over to his table. Pulling out her notepad and pen she flashed him the brightest, most obviously FAKE, smile she could muster before talking through her teeth, "And what will you be having today?"

Steel eyes flashed over her for a second, causing her cheek to burn with a rush of blood, before scanning back over the menu. They sat in another moment of silence before he folded the menu, handing it to her with a quick flick of his wrist.

"Uhm…?" Minako blinked.

"Coffee. Black."

She huffed. What was she, a psychologist? Erm, wait…

Snatching the menu from his hands, cursing herself for leaving it there to begin with, she twirled back around on her heals. Unfortunately, the floor hadn't sponged up the mucky water itself… and she found herself staring at the ceiling for the second time.

Minako was beyond annoyed. Minako was beyond the throbbing pain in her tailbone. Minako was **AAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGG**.

Or, at least, that was the loud noise that echoed through the coffee shop, bounced off pans and ladles, and reverberated back at her tenfold. Yet, before she could even have known what was happening, before she could rub anything or hid any biting pain, rough hands grasped loosely around her wrists. She was dragged to her feet.

Eyes of liquid mercury stared evenly down at her, pale lips set into a starched line. His strong jaw was framed by silver locks that nearly mirrored the headlights of a passing car. Heat radiated from his chest, his hands, still wrapped firmly around her wrists, burned like red-hot shackles. All Minako could do was gaze up at him, wide eyed and frightened looking.

Minako Aino liked to be in control, but so did Kenneth Amsburry.

Clearing her throat, she pulled her wrists from his clutch and fixed her tangled mane. Stepping around him she made her way behind the counter to ready his coffee. He followed. Well, he couldn't exactly follow-follow her, and he wasn't intentionally chasing her, he just wanted to make sure she didn't poison him. Yeah, that.

So, he watched her. He watched how her blonde tresses settled in the faint florescent light, how her hips swayed to an unheard beat as she filled the pot, the way her delicate fingers danced. He was no skirt chaser, defiantly not, but he was human and MAN was a _very_ significant sixty percent of that word. Even as creepy as it seemed, watching her like this, Kenneth was nonetheless attracted to women who knew how to brew him up a nice cup of hot coffee.

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to take this with you. We're closing very, very, **very** soon," again Minako spoke with a tightly clenched jaw. She could feel the weight of his gaze lingering over her body and the familiar heat from an unfamiliar body rushed through her veins. She poured his coffee into a disposable cup before sliding it in front of him.

Taking an inspection sip he nodded in approval before digging into his coat pocket for his wallet. They sat in silence as he counted out exact change. When he was finally pleased he handed it over to her and pushed his way into the chilling night. The older man had stumbled out some time ago and Minako found herself suffocated within the silence.

It was too much.

She turned off all the appliances, double checked, swept up a little, grabbed her own coat, flicked off the lights, locked the door and let the dust settle in the cracked light.

* * *

The sun rising over Tokyo was absolutely striking. Deep shades of purples and blues from the previous night collided with the sun's powerful orange fingers, tangling and weaving through breaking clouds. The smell of the wet air and the songs from rousing birds were enough to lull any soul into a blissful trance.

It was rare to come across such a peaceful air in such a sleepless city, so Rei savored the quiet while she could. With the sun soon to beat high in the sky, fighting off prior rain clouds, Tokyo would spring to life. Fortunately, it was early enough that she would not have to worry about random strangers floating through and could thoroughly enjoy her tea while perched on the top stair leading up to the shrine.

It was nothing new to her, she had always been a punctual person, waking long before daylight dared to take a peek over the soaring skyscrapers an office buildings. She'd sweep along the stairs, tend to the inhabiting plants, and weed away any intruders all while awaiting potential customers and sightseers. Yet, ever since her grandfather had passed away things had taken a turn for the worse. Money wasn't coming as easily, her wintry demeanor made her unapproachable. Most of the funds stimulating the shrine were from her 'fan club' of translucent men.

Which is why Rei had sold herself.

Not literally, not physically, but ever since she was young Rei had a particular knack for the piano. Her mother had given her lessons and taught her as much as she could before her depression had overwhelmed her. It'd only become a hobby after that. But, with her grandfather dead, and the shrine decaying in one of the most disgraceful ways possible, she'd taken up the piano for show. She sold her talent to entertain whoever would lend an ear and graciously reimburse.

And surprisingly enough, people had liked it. Word of mouth spread and now she was getting more and more calls wishing her to play at so-and-so's birthday, wedding, anniversary. She'd been to so many parties in the past week it was all becoming one glitzy dream of champagne and foggy laughter.

Her polite smiles and soft spoken small talk (all thanks to years of sucking up to her father's colleagues) made her a welcomed guest at quite a few households; an equal number of men's beds. She'd declined them all in a fashionable manor. Even so, residences grew in size, dresses and suits became more elaborate and expensive. It was all so consuming.

Tonight was no exception.

It was going to be her biggest engagement yet. Apparently some high-end corporation had sealed a huge deal for their company and so they were throwing an extravagantly lavish party for all employees. Meaning, there was going to be more than two hundred guests romping around some guy's mansion and it was her job to provide the background music.

Sighing into her tea Rei wondered if it was all she'd ever be destined for.

Palming a yawn, Ami continued to stroll through the park, dragging her feet in the cool, damp grass. It'd been a long time since she'd ventured so far from her school's campus. She'd wandered away in a fog of confused thoughts, the sweet smell of rain drying on the asphalt of the street guiding her nowhere until now.

* * *

This park was new and old all at once.

New trees, new grass, new flowers, new people, but old memories lingered. This place was close to an elder part of Tokyo, a place she had grown in. This park had been her savor more than once. Here she'd sort through her life, plan and regret. It was a time without books or stress or pressure.

Dropping her grocery bags next to her Ami fell to her knees smiling. A small, fragile smile. She continued to smile as she stretched out on her back in the grass, feeling herself sink ever so slightly into the dank and mushy ground. The sun was still low in the sky, allowing streams of light to flood in through the tree branches. It was early enough to enjoy herself without worrying about who was around to observe.

She had nearly drifted into a long forgotten world of warm, tingly relaxation when the sound of her plastic bags rustling roused her mind. The sound wasn't particularly loud, but the breeze had momentarily ceased leaving nothing to stir them. The bluenette cracked her eyes open, moving her glasses from the bridge of her nose to fend away the haze clouding her brain, before blinking owlishly at the blurry figure crouched before her. Quickly shoving her glasses back on Ami stifled a gasp.

A man was kneeling in front of her, both hands holding open _her _grocery bag, with one of _her _newly bought rolls in **his mouth**. Okay, now in a normal situation any woman, or even man, in Ami's position were entitled to scream or nail the guy in the head with something and then said guy would run away with the roll left in the mud. Fortunately enough for said man's ears Ami was far from normal and she continued to blink at him, frozen. He, in return, stared in surprise.

After a moment of some intense staring the criminal reached up for the roll, tugged a huge bite out of the roll and proceeded to chew. The stranger didn't look particularly threatening as his blond bangs boyishly hung over his apple green eyes, as few loose strands of his long, wavy hair caught the breeze. But Ami new better than to test him; she had left her pepper spray at home.

"Ee hop yew don't meend…"—chewchewswallow—"… me eating your rolls, but you see I've been stuck out here all night and I was just starving so when I saw you napping I decided to help myself. I don't really have much money"—lie—"to pay you back but I'm sure there is some other way to return the favor, yes?"

Trying to process his accented words all at once bewildered her even more so all she did was agree.

Flashing her a charming smile the handsome stranger stood, holding up a single finger, "I'll be back in one second. Wait here, okay?"

She nodded as she watched him jog over to the playground equipment. He returned moments later lugging a suitcase that weighed him down to an unhurried hobble before dropping it in front of her with a thud. Popping the latches open, pushing back the lid, he pulled a large pad of paper from the suitcases' surprising depths.

He pulled out a sizably thick canvas, on it glittered a stunning landscape. A single fur tree stood lonely in a desolate field of colorless snowfall. It seemingly bowed under the thrashing blizzard that crippled and tattered the tree's branches as all it could do was to soldier through. It was achingly beautiful piece, with quick and thoughtless detail that seemed to be utterly flawless.

She pursed her lips into a tight line.

"I hope this is enough to repay you," he murmured with a delightful smirk as he handed the painting to her, snapping her out of her spellbound condition.

How unlike her this man was… and how cheerful and abrupt and contented he was.

"Ah, yes, that was much more than I could have asked for," she commented, shyly pulling the painting closer. Her cheeks burned as she studied his careful smile and dreamy eyes. How long had she sat there and stared at him?

"If it's not too much, can I ask you the directions to the Chiba Prefecture? I'm looking for the Geidai resident halls, but I sort of got lost…" His narrow features twisted into a disgruntled look causing Ami to glance down in an utterly panicky manor. Such an expression was not suited for such a striking man.

"Erm… you're about… 33.78 miles west from the dorms…"

"33?"

"Uhm, more like 34... if you… round," she corrected before clearing her throat, embarrassed.

With a flurry he packed everything together, scrunching the pad into the suitcase with a sickening ripping noise. Flustered he glanced up at her wide eyed and devastated, "Thank you for your hospitality, miss!"

More like, thanks for not calling the cops on me, Zacharie sighed before bowing deeply.

Ami watched him stroll away, unable to call out to him.

* * *

"URG!" Makoto slammed her apartment door closed, appalled. Never in her life had she met someone so… so… DISRESPECTFUL.

That woman, no, **THAT BEAST **could _never_ even come close to trying to understand her! She knew nothing about who she was and could never come close to understanding her situation! That weathered old bitch!

The brunette closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down with a slow breathing technique, but all that came to mind were the day's events: waking up to a fresh morning, using the little bit of money she could spare to buy herself decent supplies for a decent dinner, and then… a meeting with her _new_ probation officer, who she kindly and tastefully nicknamed **THAT BEAST**, before being harassed!

It was true, the life she had chosen for herself was not exactly CEO, but it's not like she was fucking _**SATAN**_. Even Satan didn't disserve those looks she had been throwing Makoto from behind a thick folder as her revolting, gnarled nails slid down the list of community service options. That was saying a lot.

And the way she spoke to her… like she was a child! Never in her life had she been so insulted!

Clenching her fists until her knuckles turned a ghostly white, considering she had tanned quite well this pass summer, was enough to leave half moon craters bleeding in her palms. Makoto bottled in her rage, her sorrow, her need to be held. No one had been there the first time; no one was there now. No one would be there for her last.

Swinging her front door open and locking it with a snarl Makoto took the step from her apartment two at a time. She kept her fists balled at her side, eyes trained on the ground. It was true, Makoto Kino had been through _a lot_ of shit in her life and it took quite a bit of effort to royally piss her off the way her probation officer had, but the more she thought about it, about how the lady's left eye had lolled to the side and how her hair frizzled at the end, she became more aware of how silly her fury was.

The more she thought about how her moods were starting to affect her so irrationally the more her bitterness dulled into a pulsatingly numbing ache burrowed firmly in her gut. It reminded her of a tapeworm; only this parasite stole her life from her. Her body already felt weary and her lashes wilted against her cheeks. The first opportunity she saw she took a seat in front of a tiny shop and covered her mouth in revulsion.

What was she becoming? All her ambitions, all her talent was wasting away in the palms of people who cared not if she returned whole or even at all.

People were no longer just shying away from her intimidating air, but actually had a reason to truly cower under her gaze.

She had told herself she'd find something more; she'd win over those who she came across and finally live for herself. Yet, repaying a few favors here and there led her to a dark place. It was only now that these people could validate their fears, their nervous stuttering and lip biting. She'd become something more shameful than That Beast.

Annoyed with all her disappointments she stood, rigid and cold before pushing through the glass door of the shop with a tinkering chime. Out of all the shady tattoo parlors, cheap nail salons, and empty run down warehouses Makoto found herself blasted with the humid and wistful scent of numerous lingering flowers.

Makoto blinked in a rapid whirlwind of puzzlement.

Maybe this was some secret cover for some drug scandal?

Maybe some mafia's headquarters?

Ma—

"Maybe, it's just a flower shop?" A gruff voice teased.

Makoto pivoted around, arms raised with menacing fast reflexes only to find a man smiling ruefully in her direction from behind the store's counter. Mortified, she lowered her fists, but hid it well. Unfortunately, she could not stifle the fresh heat of blood that reddened her cheeks as she noted how handsome said _man_ was.

Brunette hair gleamed in a red undertone with every minor movement. Pale green eyes were placid and content. Muscles pulled his sleeves taut against his biceps, yet his hands moved in the most careful fashion as he cupped an idle blossom. Hunched over the counter he was still tall and sleek and commanding.

"You seemed a little flabbergasted when you walked in here, but don't worry, you're not the only one who's reacted this way today," he grinned, cigarette twitching with the rising corner of his lips. For being such an environmentalist it was all but ironic of him to partake in such a fixation.

"And, who said I thought of it to be any different?" Makoto crossed her arms defiantly.

He shrugged. The cherry of his cigarette burned brightly as he took a drag, before exhaling with a breath of smoke, "Well, I figured if the cops did anyone might."

Her blank gazed flittered across the small space, tracing over rose and tulip and gardenia pedals before wrapping around the trunks of saplings. Rows and rows of color blinded her senses while the wide glass refrigerator case in the back held numerous elaborate bouquets. The dripping of barely noticeable fountains lulled her.

A wave of simplicity drifted through her hollow bones, eased her shoulders, and willed her heart to slow. She exhaled quietly.

"So, miss, is there anything I can do for you?" He questioned as he dusted off his apron, olive green eyes clashing with her own for a brief moment before breaking it.

"No, not really. I just didn't expe—"

"Ah. Then what? Expect to find some comfort in the bottle tonight?" He looked at her all too seriously.

For a moment she was speechless then felt the rage, the monster, clawing at her chest in its need. Wanting, wishing, hoping as it lurked just below the composed surface of her irises.

"_Excuse me_? Who are you to assume? You don't know me! You know **nothing**," with that said Makoto snatched the nearest vase full of roses up, plucking the dozen or so flowers from without hesitation—the monster always won—she let the pottery explode around her feet; water soaked her jeans and dappled her turtleneck.

Giving him one last fierce expression Makoto disappeared with a clatter, taking Nathan's pride with her.

He was left to clean the mess.

* * *

Jayden stared at his reflection. He turned to the side and stared some more. He held up a turquoise tie and a silver one. He slipped leather shoes on an off. He tugged his hair back before musing it until it fell just the right way. Once satisfied with the man in the mirror he flashed himself a devilish smile and shut the door to his apartment.

Flicking a wave goodbye to his doorman he bounded down the stairs and slid into the waiting door of a sleek black limousine. Even before he could reach over to close the door a hand slid down his thigh, fingers spread wide and nails painted violet.

A cool voice whispered into his ear, "Good evening, Jayden."

"Hello Mrs. Ayuma," he murmured as his hand fell over her pale one and carefully plucked it nail by nail from his thigh.

"How many times have I told you to call me Cooan?" She purred.

"I don't find it appropriate to call my bosses wife by her first name," he replied evenly. His eyes didn't waver as he watched her silhouette frown in the window. Looking through the image he stared as the neon lights streaked by, he watched teenagers chat carelessly with friends, and watched himself grow older. Minute by minute it brought him closer to dying. He could feel his body decaying.

Every moment of his life was committed to leaving a mark on someone or on something in this crumbling world. Maybe it's why he'd become so successful? He lived by the longstanding motto: don't count every hour in the day, make every hour in the day count.

His unselfish actions fulfilled his selfish desires.

With a sigh of utter frustration and disgust Cooan wrapped her feathery boa around her shoulders. She stared straight ahead with a narrowed gaze, before hissing, "Jayden, do keep in mind who lives, breathes, and _sleeps_ with your boss. One word, just one word…"

Unselfish actions…

"I understand perfectly well, Cooan," he whispered against her neck, his breath humid an indulging.

She purred in delight, wrapping her arm in his.

The limousine had stopped in front of a towering mansion flooding with people coming in an out of huge oak doors. Valet boys scrambling to find parking spaces for guests; diamonds twinkled around the necks of women much too young. The driver pulled open the door for them and they stepped out to climb the steep walkway.

…for selfish desires.

* * *

Alright! First thing is first... forgive me for: 1) possibly messing any characters up, but I've only ever focused on Rei-chan before 2) any confusing information 3) any possible errors and 4) slow, slow updates.

I had been working with tinkering this one for a while before I had thought to post this. Though, I did spend most of my week typing and re-typing things, school will be restarting and things tend to sloooow.

I'm sure I'll get the hang of my character muses soon enough. I just need to reeeead more.

R&R!


	3. asked to burn

Yay for slow updates! Actually, not so much of a `yay`, but I am sorry! ):

Anyways, this one took me a little bit longer due to the fact that school has started and I sort of fluctuate between good and bad writing moods. Sort of in the middle right now.

Also, I apologize for a possibly confusing time jumps between every side story but I TRY to keep them in order by time and try to keep them all in the same 24 hour period.

Don't own anything!

* * *

It was haunting. It was deliberate; it was the epitome of every regret he had ever felt. Forced him to writhe in the echoes of the misery surrounding. Like a snake this soft tune coiled around him, crushing his bones and robbing him of breath with every wary strike of the ivory keys.

He closed his eyes and was consumed.

But the melody was fleeting and the feelings decayed with the fading note.

"Jaaay?" Cooan's voice brought him crashing back to reality. Her nails, clipped into maroon points, dug into his arm as she tugged him through the chattering crowd of marinating perfumes and money cut hands. "Come now! I'd hate to be caught by that prune!"

His eyes darkened.

She enjoyed running away with the diamond on her finger.

It was like a little girl running away from her parents, tugging her dolly with her. He was her play toy, used and abused as pleased; dressed up with a mouth stitched into a smile.

How the mighty gained their might.

Disgusting.

He sneered and pulled his arm from her grasp, grumbling about finding some champagne floating around. Perhaps, if he were lucky enough, something even more indulging. His feet were quick to direct him any direction that would lead far, far away.

He could feel Cooan drilling holes into his retreating back as he moved through the crowd.

He'd pay, he could feel it.

She was just too much. He'd had enough of her absurdity for the night and would make note to avoid her at _all _costs. He'd simply tell her he had caught up with old friends while sifting through the swarm and had been invited back for drinks or something along those lines.

Always, _always_ plan things out.

Upon first impression people seem to detect an arrogant and swaggering disposition about him, but Jayden was no fool.

He mentally patted himself on the back.

His proud glow diminished quickly though as he snatched up a passing glass and downed the content without a single remorse for his liver. He might have pursued the young man closely if he hadn't been snagged by the sleeve a moment later. Jayden, not being the heaviest or meatiest of men, reeled back into the clutches of a drunken colleague.

"There you are! I have been looking _all_ over for you!" The man's voice rang with false elation, wrinkled cheeks flushed with the artificial contentedness his flask brought him. Halitosis wafted for miles. "Have you seen some of these legs?! I'd like to sink my teeth into them, boy!"

Older women threw pointed glares over their shoulders.

The blond nodded in incontestable agreement. Jayden couldn't remember the gentlemen's name, but he was sure the gentlemen wouldn't remember if he remembered or not. He just let the man's drunken babble merge with all the other background affairs while his thoughts kept him entertained.

He did **try** to show interest, that is, until it became inescapable...

Leaning unnervingly close to Jayden's unwilling ear he whispered as quietly as a low shout, "Don't look now, but the dessert for the evening has arrived!"

Ever so curious, Jay's eyes slid across the room and felt the flow of his blood quicken through his veins. Jayden had seen many perfected fake tans, dyed locks, and supple implants all (barely) hidden under pieces of tasteful cloth, but _she _was something else.

Dark lashes caressed ashen cheeks, elegantly sculpted brows rose with unheard laughter. Her body language was unhurried and deliberate as her fingers curled around a champagne glass, hips swaying under her crimson cocktail dress.

She must have felt all the hungry eyes groping her lithe figure, smelt the vapor cloud of breath fresheners, and watched as the need burned bright behind monocles. She must have been trained on poise and composure. Seen faces of thousands of handsome men, young and old; engaged them all in polite aversion.

Conceited? Perhaps.

However, the faint smile that graced her lips was convincing enough to tempt even the most heavily guarded of men to try to steal a quick glance while their wives backs were turned. But it was something more than her pretty face that caught his attention. Something he couldn't quite put a name to. Something reflecting in her brilliant orbs.

Perhaps…

It was the way her smirk dissipated as her head titled the slightest bit. How her ebony strands pooled across her smooth shoulders. How her posture stiffened. How despondent she looked within that solitary instant.

She must have reflexively shifted away from a wandering hand, Jayden wasn't quite sure, but her chin lifted and from behind the fan of feathered lashes their gazes collided.

Amethyst eyes swelled with unbridled passion, painted lips parted the slightest.

Jayden Haruto stood in a moment of profound, listless mystification completely disregarding his surroundings. But a good business man could never be caught slack jawed; never let an opponent read his true position.

The machinery of his mind clicked on and began to slave away.

Calculating, preparing.

He held her stare through his bangs, through the passing crowd. His underline cocky persona tugged a rueful grin across his lips and brightened his handsome face; the same look that claimed so many hearts and jobs alike.

A nasty habit.

For a moment, her exquisite features twisted into a look of anguish and broke away with an air of disgust. She vanished into the glamour.

Jayden blinked.

And blinked again.

Pursing his lips into a set line he untangled his Valentino suit from the gnarled man's grasp. He had enough of women. Back tracking he let his eyes comb over the tops of guests heads trying to find that damned server. He needed a drink.

* * *

It wasn't like her to reminisce. The memories were painful enough, to think of all the holidays her mother had spent sifting through the dog eared letters when she had thought she was the only one awake. Crying, smiling, lost. Alone.

Unaware to her mother she had her own collection. Nestled in between one of her favorite book's idle pages handcrafted postcards rested safely. Painted landscapes were so careful it was hard to tell whether or not it was a photograph.

But he hadn't left to be a photographer.

An artist must be free to express their thoughts and ideals. Free to explore and create willingly. Free to wander without the weight of responsibilities.

A surgeon dedicates their life to responsibilities that can wake them up at 3AM on Christmas morning. A surgeon dedicates their entire self to saving others. A surgeon must sacrifice their own family for the sake of others.

It was bound to break.

She was away too much and he wasn't away enough.

He must have felt trapped within the grim of Tokyo's streets. Why else would he have left her so young?

She was so little she hardly remembers him.

At the same time, she can hardly remember her own mother.

So why was she here in this solitary hell? Why follow the snow blown footprints of her mother? Why condemn herself to the same fate?

She was in debt to her. She had dedicated her whole childhood to making her proud and would continue on. The cozy chasm she'd dug herself would have to do.

Ami traced the miniature scenery with a delicate fingertip wondering if she had made her father proud as well. She wondered if he knew anything about her.

Questioned what it'd be like to be a tiny figure living comfortably in her father's world.

How things could have been… how things weren't…

Sighing, she placed the stack of mementos on her end table and folded her arms over her chest. She should be studying and outlining, but the repressed nostalgia kept her drifting off into space. She'd close her eyes tightly, but every time she did she'd see that man's face.

He looked like something out of a foreign movie with his crimped, flowing hair and mood ring eyes. That face which was so wonderfully proportional, so well groomed.

The innocent thought of his devilish smile made her cheeks grow red.

But, it was that man caused this scourge. That beautiful, charming artist who she'd most likely never see again except behind closed eyes.

She rolled over and stared at her wall.

Too many people kept disappearing.

* * *

She had to get away. She had to escape. Needed to breathe and tear apart these images that grinned so menacingly from the darkest corners of her subconscious, creeping closer to the surface.

He looked so young.

No glasses, no facial hair.

No dark circles shining under his eyes or beauty mark.

His hair tussled in a playful way.

Could she be mistaken? No, no. It had to be him.

She couldn't see him now. Not so in such a disgraceful and lowly state. Not so soon.

Rei exhaled deeply as she pushed her way through the bathroom door. She needed to put herself back together. She clicked over to the sink and flicked the faucet on.

Clutching either side of the basin she stared long and hard into her own reflection. This wasn't going to be it. She wasn't going to let some stupid man tip her equilibrium so easily. She was not weak and she would not have another episode.

Stuttered words and softened eyes would **not** be tolerable.

Swiping her bangs away from her vision and running a fingertip along an eyebrow she squared her shoulders. This was not going to faze her. She would go on like nothing happened. She would perform as scheduled.

The water shut off.

Giving herself a fierce look she sauntered back into the limelight.

The door swung closed.

* * *

"I hope he accepts this…" Makoto sighed.

It was about an hour before midnight, but she just couldn't settle into her bed sheets the right way until she knew she was in the clear. It really wasn't like her to give in so easily, but for some reason his stern expression kept trickling through her mind.

His eyes. They kept accusing her; kept crawling just under her skin.

She hadn't been able to eat, or clean, or flip through her scrapbooks. She just sat at her table fingering the petals of the stolen contraband. The guilt had set in.

With a lowered head she had gathered up all the fresh ingredients present and for the next two hours threw together her toughest bento box yet. She scrolled a quick note of apology, folded it into the package, and set out.

Now, standing in front of the dark flower shop, she fidgeted. The light above the store glowed dimly and shadows passed across the blinds every once in a while. _Someone _was home.

The stairway on the side of the shop creaked menacingly under her weight. Curling her fingers around the crumbling rail she blindly fumbled her way up the stairwell. Letting a heavy breath escape she smoothed the invisible wrinkles from her turtleneck.

She wholly wasn't doing this because he was exceedingly good looking. She was doing this to help herself become a better person. She really was.

…She could be doing it for both, right?

Rapping her knuckles against the door she took a step back and waited.

Nothing.

Again, she knocked.

Nothing.

Pursing her lips in frustration Makoto banged a fist harshly against the flimsy wood.

"Haven't done enough damage for one night I see."

Jumping in surprise she peered down the darkened stairway nearly missing the blackened shape leaning haphazardly against the bowed rail.

"I came back to repay you for earlier," Makoto frowned at his taunting tone.

The sound of bags rustling was the only indication to his movements as he climbed his way to the top. She felt the blind heaviness of his presences as he squeezed passed her, pushing through the door.

Nethan set his grocery bags down inside the entry and turned back towards his unwelcomed guest with a raised brow. The light that filtered through the cracked doorway illuminated the untamed pride safeguarding her emerald irises, hugged her tanned skin, and reflected off her tawny tresses.

"I hope this is enough," she murmured ignoring the way his eyes watched every curved movement of her glossed lips.

Apologies didn't come easily and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She shoved a box into his chest, bowed deeply, and shuffled down the stairs without another word.

He pulled the lid off the black lacquered box and smiled leisurely at the adorable little garnished bunnies, cats, and flowers all warily handcrafted especially for him. He unfolded the blue parchment and traced every loop of her neat scrawl and chuckled at the tiny doodled rose.

Opening his door further he leaned out, peering after her in hopes of catching her one last time in the creeping glow of his hallway lamp.

But Cinderella had slipped away.

* * *

Minako stifled a yawn with a cupped hand. It was well beyond closing time, but she'd been waiting.

And waiting and waiting and _waiting_.

It was absurd, but her horoscope had specifically said something **fabulous** was bound to happen to spurt her love life into action today, but today ended in… two minutes.

So far nil.

Zilch!

None even came close...

Sighing Minako threw her broom down and let her eyes wander towards the booth in which **he **had sat a little more than 24 hours ago.

Locking up she flicked the lights off and slid into the seat across from where the silver haired splendor had stiffly perched. Resting a cheek on the table top she idly watched her fingers dance in and out of the light slinking in from the streetlamps.

Minako fell asleep listening to the clock striking midnight, completely unaware that the paper she had been reading had been a day slow.

* * *

Sorry for the little Minako action, but I pretty much have her story planned out.

R&R!


	4. iridescent smile

Uhh… I guess it's been a little while. Opps. But I had some of my own issues I had to sort out. I'm a lot less stressed now and hopefully feeling more creative than I have been. But still not up to full par.

Oh and, I don't know; I feel like explaining this a tab bit better. This is a timeline as if the Senshi had never met Usagi, never became Sailor Senshi. How their lives would have turned out. Well, in my perspective… plus a little dose of romance. I always thought that their lives were so tragic without Usagi and wondered why they'd been given such crappy existences without her. So I elaborated? Sort of.

Cha. Don't own squat.

* * *

"Yes?" A rough voice splintered through the unsought stillness. A minute passed before the low cracking of shifting joints and stiff bones signified the displeasure of being awoken at 2:30 in the morning.

Sheets slid and resettled against his hips, bathing the contours of his muscular chest in the cold moonlight. His vacant, monochrome stare traced the curvature of the billowing curtains, lips pursing into an unforgiving line. He held the phone to an ear, not moving.

Just watching.

_When had dates become just a vague impression? _

A gentle inquiry broke Kenneth's contemplation.

"Yes, I'm still here," his voice was clipped, his teeth clenched. Regret coiled and squeezed at his gut as a pregnant pause set in, but his expression remained set.

He waited.

A sigh came from the other line.

"I'm fully aware of what you're going to ask. Unfortunately, I have prior engagements to attend to all throughout the week," Kenneth cut in swiftly, leaving no opportunity for the guilt to bleed out through the unevenly knit exaggeration. "I'm sorry."

Silence.

"… I'm not afraid of him anymore, mother."

_Click. _

Hiding his face within the solitary obscurity of his palms, Kenneth let his mother's words soften and finally dissipate into the folds of darkness.

He dared not move until he could not recall the sound of her voice.

* * *

"Thank you, Miss Hino. Your services were greatly appreciated," the hostess, whose dimples molded kindheartedly into her drooping cheeks, handed her a check. "I'm sorry the party ran a little over expected time."

Rei accepted the payment with a bow of gratitude before letting her raw feet carry her unwilling weight through the dense oak doors into the livening chill.

Time had barely surrendered her release; from a moment more of her own heartbeat pulsing through the tips of her fingers. All she could do now was limp to the bus stop and hope that they ran this early in the morning.

It must had been close to three in the morning before the crowed melted through the doors, exhales of curling white cigarette smoke lurking in their settling wake like insipid shadows. She could nearly caress the mountain of warm lavender bubbles that would spill over the edge of her tub as she maneuvered her way down the few simple steps of the porch, avoiding a sleeping drunk and his stomach's contents.

However, her foreseen future became as vapid as the steam that would cloud her bathroom mirror.

He must have heard the cry of her four inch heels as they skinned against the pavement when her ankle nearly rolled after missing the last step.

She hadn't seen him then, but she saw him now.

She never looked directly at him, but he was openly staring.

He looked like he should be pressed in between magazine pages. His suit coat slung over a shoulder, back melding into the contours of a sleek car. His blond locks mused into a devastating mess that curled at the ends and hung just above his eyes.

His eyes…

Rei wondered where his glasses were.

Or if he ever needed them.

The way they glowed desperately sapphire in the predatory reflection of the full moon… she didn't think so.

Sneering at the ground she pitied the disease that clutched her heart to near stillness and painted her cheeks. It would die a tender death again and again. Until it would fight no longer.

Her stride picked up as she neared him.

How adrenaline could mask the twinge of her ankle and cramped toes so effortlessly. She'd feel the backlash within minutes.

Rei didn't slow.

She'd be damned if she'd catch a glimpse of his wedding band in a place like this_. _There had been too much sullen defiance_. _Too much plaint disrespect she'd strained upon herself_. __**Pain**_.

The longing that rippled throughout her body protested against her disgust.

"Miss?"

_Oh god. _

She felt her knees tremble, hostile response turning to ash that congealed on the tip of her tongue.

His voice… his voice… somber, yet warm and loose… was not Kaidou's.

She'd been wrong. _Wrong. _

It had never felt so good to be so mistaken.

Elated, Rei spared a glance over her shoulder; her good mood could not be ruined by her sour abhorrence towards the male species, no matter how indistinguishable the two men were. Clearing her throat she addressed him, "Yes?"

He didn't seem perturbed by her moody transition.

"This may seem a little straight forward, but is there anyway I could perhaps share a cab with you?" Unabashed, Jayden continued, "My ride left without me and I have absolutely no money on me whatsoever."

Curling her fingers tighter into the tough leather of her accompanying clutch, Rei eyed him critically.

"No."

Pushing off the car side Jayden rustled a hand through his locks irritably, "Even a few bucks? Look, I swear I'll pay you back. I just need to get home. I have no phone, no money…"

He emptied his pockets to exemplify his dire need.

Rei was never too inclined to hand out charity, especially when one wears such an expensively threaded suit, but she already knew she only had enough cash to pay her own way home.

"I'm sorry, I can't help you." And with no further explanation Rei slunk down the driveway, around the corner hedges, kicked her shoes off, and padded to her bus stop on angry feet.

* * *

Out of the corner of his eye Jayden spotted the man who had promptly made exceedingly fine friends with the porch and his own puke.

* * *

Leaning over the balcony of his back porch Nethan watched as the sun rose. His warm breath mingled in the dewy air, bare skin prickling from the sudden change in atmosphere. Half lidded eyes indolently traced the stretching silhouettes the rising sun sent running.

The stars faded swiftly from the brightening sky.

He sighed.

Today was going to be a _long_ day…

_Urg. It's too early for this._

_

* * *

_

With a long sigh Makoto ran a brush through her wavy locks before pulling them back into her trademark ponytail. She never enjoyed leaving the claustrophobic security of her bed; the world was not as merciful as her dreams. Even as cruel as they were.

Makoto had never really been one to sleep in exceptionally late, but getting up at 6AM brought back horrendous recollections of her high school career. At least if she was a few minutes belated she wouldn't be heckled. Only make a dreadful impression on her first day of "work". And piss off her probation officer.

"Ef et macks 'er sqarm…" She chuckled lightheartedly as she finished brushing her teeth.

Something about last night had uplifted her spirits unexpectedly. She felt like she had fairly repaid Tall-Dark-and-Handsome for her outlandish antics without having to worry about any further discrepancies. Even though her bento box had been something she had held dear it wasn't irreplaceable. Besides, it wasn't like she could have returned the flowers after she'd accidently destroyed a few when she tore her way back home.

Maybe she'd stop by…

"Get your head out of the clouds! We're kicking some habits and first thing's first… no more bad boys!" She barked, pumping a fist determinately. "No matter how tall, built, chiseled, and mysterious!"

Gradually her hand fell limp at her side, gazing at herself for a long minute.

"We're going to have to work on that."

* * *

With her legs tucked neatly under herself Ami leaned comfortably against a shelf, a book with a tattered spine burrowed into her lap. A sturdy mass of thick medical volumes stood guard; waiting.

It was early, only about an hour since the library had opened, but she was well into her extensive studying.

Reading, post-it noting pages, re-reading.

And re-reading…

The corner of her lips twitched.

Her concentration was shallow and her brain was having trouble encoding the information from her text. Or perhaps it was retrieval failure?

A lack of retrieval cues? Proactive or retroactive interference?

Pulling her glasses off, she rubbed a weary eye.

_Probably just a lack of adequate sleep… _

Palming a small yawn she rested her head against the bent and bending spines of timeless novels and tales that she'd never read no matter how many times she'd tell herself too.

The wistful insight was pointless, the vivid taste of another's imagination temporary.

Still, she always found herself seeking comfort in the undying aisles of fiction.

Letting her lids slide shut Ami listened to the hushed whispers that filled the halls, greedily swallowed the musty sent of cracked and yellowed pages, and basked in the inquisitive mood of her strange refuge.

"Mommy! Mommy! This one! This one!" The hushed excitement of a young girl bouncing around in the next aisle made Ami smile. "Read this one to me Mommy!"

Children eager to learn always left a weak spot in her heart.

"Honey, are you sure you want this one?" With a brief pause she laughed. "Alice's Adventures in Wonderlandit is."

"It even has pictures in it!"

"Well look at that. Lucky girl. Alright, come here and we'll get as far as we can before we have to meet Daddy for lunch."

And so Ami sat listening to the woman spin the nonsensical adventures of Alice's time in Wonderland. It incited the memories of when she'd be tucked carefully into the crooks of her mother's arm, listening to the charismatic portrayal of Atrial Fibrillation or Myocardial Rupture.

Her head began tilting unknowingly to the side, muscles relaxing as the rapid patterns of her drowsy brain's Alpha waves lulled to the gentler rolling waves of Theta.

She had nearly drifted off into her own Wonderland when the shrill chime of her cell phone jolted her back into the cognizant world.

Fumbling to flip the phone open she mumbled a halfhearted greeting hoping not to cause a greater scene nor be on the receiving side of aggravated partisans' glares.

Or worse… get kicked out…

"Is this Ms. Mizuno speaking?"

She blinked at the stiff male voice, "Umm, yes? Who is this?"

"My name is Hayate Nakamura, I'm an associate and close friend of your father's. I'm calling to inform you that some of his work is on sale at a local exhibition," he sniffed. "I'd like to invite you to visit the gallery if you find yourself interested."

Her father's work? In Tokyo?

"I'm going to have to think about it…" She hesitated, but her curiosity peaked. "When is it?"

"It's all today. It's a private gallery so there is a semi-formal dress code. I've already taken the liberty to put your name on the list." The sound of rustling papers and the scraping of a chair interrupted him. "However, Ms. Mizuno, it is only for a day. The exhibit will be in China by tomorrow."

"Will my father be there?" Her heart fluttered for a moment, the question that had been hanging over her head from the first reference of him spilling out tactlessly.

"I'm afraid not. Only his art."

" I see… Thank you, Mr. Nakamura."

"Goodbye, Ami."

The call ended.

* * *

Kenneth brushed through the minimal crowd with ease. He kept his eyes on the ground, mind thick with lassitude that reached far beyond the hollow reflection of his Italian loafers. His silver tresses mirrored anyone's sympathetic sideways glances.

He must have wasted an hour turning corners, crossing streets, back tracking through narrow, hidden roads.

It was pointless. Unproductive.

But his epitomized struggle left him in a paralysis where only reflection and logic could blanket the underline problems.

He was never sure where he'd take himself or how far he'd get. At least it was a hint of adventure; of not knowing who you'll run into or where exactly you'll end up. If you can remember through your brooding, if you can get home.

He already knew where he was going. At seven in the morning there weren't many places _to _go.

Coffee would at least perk him up.

So he was not at all surprised when he found himself loitering underneath the awning of the dingy little café from a couple nights before. Not that he had thought about coming back, either. Just a simple convenience that he happened about.

Tugging at the door, however, proved to be of no convenience. It was locked.

Glancing at the times that were crudely written on the back of a pink sticky note stuck to the inside glass, he duly noted that the shop should have been opened nearly an _hour _ago. However, as focal point of his vision quickly shifted, he focused on the sight beyond his own fractured image.

The waitress from the other night was asleep with her head masked within her folded arms, golden mane spilling over the opposing side of the table while the rest tumbled around her shoulders.

Politely, he knocked on the window.

She stirred before sitting up. Not seeming to notice him she yawned unattractively wide.

She must have _then_ noticed his looming shadow cast across the table because she turned towards him… and yawned again. Drowsily blinking at him she seemed to** finally** comprehend what was going on.

Bounding up she rushed to the door only to stand in front of it. She didn't move to unlock the door. She didn't even raise a finger.

Frowning in annoyance Kenneth raised a brow.

Sheepishly the waitress mouthed, "Arms. Are. Asleep."

* * *

"No, no…You don't understand. Yes, no—I mean… but I paid my bills! Everything was taken care of weeks ago," scoffed Rei as she rolled her eyes at the incompetence of the TECP employee. "Alright. Goodbye."

Leaning against a column out of exasperation, Rei cursed modern technology and the inflation of their prices.

She glanced down at the cordless phone with weary an unguarded eyes, before leveling back out to take in the shrine's courtyard. It all could only be maintained through such transactions as paying for gas, electricity, water, insurance, mortgage, etc.

With no real steady income it was hard to preserve the novel, majestic beauty of such a place.

Plants were simply evaporating and barren patches were beginning to grow in volume.

She knew her grandfather struggled, but she didn't realize it was this tough. Then again, she did break all ties towards her father's monthly "charity" and refused to believe it was a miscalculation on her part.

Saying no to her father was never a mistake.

But as the shrine withered away the voice of reason within her head, the one that mirrored her grandfather's kindly voice, was fading. Her will was bending if only to preserve the essence of the few things she loved.

Stepping through the shrine's shoji screen doors, into the more modern interior, Rei maneuvered over to the coffee table to flutter through snippets of papers until she found a messily scrawled number on the back of a recite.

A client had given it to her. They had owned a high end restaurant downtown and were looking for a piano player who was refined enough for their business and had urged her to take the job. It was an everyday job, but the pay would be a steady increase from her sporadic employment and the hours weren't too extensive as she'd only have to play around dinner hours.

She dialed the number.

* * *

Makoto huddled further into her chair, sinking away from the chilly draft wafting in when the door swung open. The lady at the desk threw her a sympathetic glance from behind her thick framed glasses as she shuffled and stacked papers. She must have been sitting in that same exact position for the last… three hours?

Apparently, the volunteer whom was in charge of showing Makoto around an informing her of protocol was no where to be found. Speculation was that she was taking care of business with some of the contractors to discuss the shelter's remodeling. A few others muttered something about "taking care of business alright" under their breaths.

Makoto took that as a promiscuous statement. At least the humor loosened her shoulders and made the waiting a bit more endurable. Well, that and her newly released romance novel. It had been forever since she last had enough time to curl up and get lost within the pages of some paperback book riddled with men's bare chests and gleaming smirks.

Directly in the middle of a relishing pinnacle where the main love interests were about to kiss and confess their true love for one another the door squeaked open. Pressing her face further into her book Makoto scanned the page, desperate to find out what was going to become of her star-crossed lovers.

Before she could however a flustered round, middle aged woman stepped into the room, fanning herself with a packet of paper rolled up just for that purpose. She wore a t-shirt with the shelter's name plastered all over it and an even more prominent giddy smile.

She ushered in whoever had been standing behind the cracked door and Makoto nearly feel out of her chair.

This had to be the _most _cliché of events that had ever ensued throughout Makoto's life, boy had there been quite a few, but this…

Squeezing through the cracked door, avoiding the panting woman's meaty hands as she virtually pulled him into the reception area, was…

Motoki Furuhata.

* * *

Ami rummaged through her closet. There wasn't much: a few baggy sweatshirts, a couple silk shirts her mother had bought her, her worn out robe, and a few dresses. But there wasn't much space to begin with, so.

But **formal**?

It was no use digging through her dressers. Nothing but t-shirts and jeans.

So a dress it was.

She'd never been particularly fond of any of her dresses, but if she was to seriously consider attending… a dress would have to do.

Which meant that she'd have to pull out the black dress she'd bought on impulse a year ago; something not like her, one does crazy things when they find out that they were accepted into the school of their dreams.

Crazy, crazy things…

Of course once her mother saw the dress she insisted that Ami buy matching heels—Ami gasped. **Heels**.

She dug through the orderly, alphabetized stack of books in order to reach the shoe box veiled within the cornered shadows of her closet. Pulling it out she shut her eyes tightly wishing, **hoping **that she had left them in their place when she'd been spring cleaning.

And they were.

Charming silver strapped stiletto heels that hadn't even been worn around the house, but could not be returned less she hear her mother plague her about not owning anything 'nice'.

Ami really didn't care to own any finicky clothing. Now papers, journals, books, her laptop… a different subject, but never clothing.

She practically had an hour to modify her look accordingly and carry out walking in her new attire.

An hour she could expend to studying…

But didn't.

* * *

Sighing dramatically Zacharie pulled the toothpick from his mouth, not caring to enjoy the appetizer he chewed on. Arranging it in the napkin he held he glanced around the room nonchalantly. Men in suits talked in hushed voices among themselves in countless diverse dialects. Stylish women ogled him from the corner of their eyes; older ladies waggled their fingers flirtatiously at him.

He smiled.

The crowd was beginning to slim and people were no longer clotted so fiercely around the bases of the artworks as there had been when the gallery first opened. He'd be free to stroll at his own pace, admire at will without worry of being shoved out of the way by some tycoon collector looking to toss the work in one of his confidential albums.

It had taken long enough.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing around enjoying the works from a far, but it was long enough to gather quite the pile of toothpicks and for the caterers to learn his name.

Tossing his own assortment of bits of food and napkins he shoved his hands into his pockets and picked a starting point in which to travel back to. It wouldn't be long. The gallery was on the smaller side, fortunately enough. Not undersized enough for the artworks to feel overcrowded, but not vast enough to display any traveling sculptures either.

Except for one.

A petite, ashen girl with fragile eyes. She had murky hair that shined with a trace of brilliant navy when she shifted her weight uncomfortably, brows creasing in contemplation. Clad in a black dress, whose hem she kept jerking down, that contrasted against her sugar spun skin splendidly. She anxiously beat her fingers against a bicep as she squinted her eyes despite the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

Then he recognized her.

The girl from the park.

Falling into place besides her he mocked interest in the oil painting as inclined his head towards her, asking, "Where you inspired?"

"Hmm?" When she glimpsed his way he noted that she looked even more riveting imprudent and doe eyed than she had formerly.

"By my work?" His smile was teasing, enchanting. He could see it in the evidence of her glasses and feel the pleasure in his cheeks. "Were you inspired enough to jump into the world of art?"

"Oh… Uhm… Not exactly," she confessed quietly, her library manors her only guidelines to follow while in this intangible world.

"You seemed to be concentrating quite intensely on this work of art," he chuckled, motioning a hand towards the piece, but never redirected his gaze from hers.

"Am I? I'm sorry. I'm trying to discern who exactly the artist of this work is." The hue of pink spread further across her cheeks in the lapse of her dithering lack of knowledge. She fidgeted, swiveled her gaze around for some sort of exit.

The full degree of her apprehension materialized.

Something swelled in Zacharie's gut.

Compassion? Guilt?

He had been the one to so daringly loom with such minute reasons.

He could not touch upon it dare it devastate his ardent vigor.

"That would be David Shimizu," he said, voice smoothing into a calmer, reassuring tone.

She looked frayed at that second, and her flinch did not go undetected, but he assumed it was not his place to query.

She asked, "How can you tell?"

"His style. Unique in its own way." His replay was flippant; an inside joke of his resourceful brand, but his grin was simple and benign.

She just nodded with a lack of understanding.

"A fan?" Zacharie surmised.

"No." The girl smiled contemptuously, letting her gaze relax openly on the painting. Her eyes undulated bleakly, her stance fortified once more.

"No? He's a great influence on this era's modern artists!" He grasped both her slight shoulders, rattling her back into the feeble woman he'd ensnared before. Her frosty visage was not suiting.

"I see," she remarked breathlessly, inhaling only half the oxygen needed to fill her lungs. The blood in her cheeks seemed to drain, sinking back into her hollowed cavity.

She looked as if she'd freeze over if he pressed himself any nearer.

So innocent. So captivating.

Different from the flamboyant girls he'd known in France.

He took a hand of hers and escorted her off to introduce her to his humanity.

* * *

Woooow. That took forever. I mean, the fact that I hadn't written anything in the past few months didn't help my progress, but whatever. I've found myself more time to read and to write! I'm happy with it.

I tried to keep my style the same, but sometimes the lack of emotional discord can really impact it.

Though, I'm not too happy with how some of this turned out I feel like most of it was okay. I tried to keep the character's personalities all under check, but for some reason I kept writing Mako like Minako. I guess I just love both their fun sides. I did touch on Mako's rough side earlier and I don't want her to come off so, so callous. And I was really hesitant about bringing in another character (Motoki), but I guess it creates more space for me to write. Teehee.

My favorite today was Kunz/Mina. I really hate when that happens. lol.

Oh well! Thanks for reading. REVIEW. :D

P.S: Do people feel like this is moving too slow? ]:


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